Vanity
by Topaz Fox
Summary: Riku has given up his heart, his body, his dreams, and his memories. Now he must give up one of the last things that truly defines him...


(Hey! It's Topaz. This story is extremely random with a tablespoon of angst. I'm probably going to get flamed, grilled, toasted, and char-broiled for this one, not to mention laughed at, but oh well... My editor hated this, but I put it up anyway. Please R&R! --Topaz Fox)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Kingdom Hearts or anything that has to do with its perfect, flawless self.

Riku stood in the darkened room, alone as usual. The metal instrument in his hand glinted violently in the shadows, as if it were drawing every ounce of light from the belly of the darkness. Riku took a deep breath. It seemed absurd—stupid, even—that he would be _afraid _to do this. After all Riku had seen, it was the last thing one would expect.

But it was hard to let go.

His hand quivered. _I have to do this. I have to forget. Riku, you're such a goddamned coward, you know that? Just get it over with already. _He cursed himself and urged himself on, trying to get just a few more moments, if anything else.

At last, he knew he couldn't stall for time any longer. Silently, mechanically, he slipped his thumb over the tiny black button. The instrument's tiny metal teeth vibrated to life, humming songs and conversations Riku thought he knew, but they slipped away before he could identify them.

With his free hand, Riku took a fistful of his own silver hair and pulled it upward. There it shone in the secretive smudges of shadow, a beautiful tower of platinum protest, a trademark known by many…so many. Gritting his teeth, Riku raised the buzzing metal tool to his scalp. Tilting his face upward, he closed his eyes, masking the darkness of the air with the darkness of himself. He prayed to the only gods he knew—the Heartless and his own memories—and ran the little excited teeth over his head.

Serene star-toned locks fell everywhere in a mournful flurry. Riku felt grim, unnaturally so, as he felt the hair being severed from his head. It floated down, defeated, to dust his bare, muscular shoulders and coat the floor under his feet with silver. It caressed in the manner of a long-lost friend, one that could have been a lover…

The memories came involuntarily. Riku had hoped they wouldn't, but they slithered into his knowing, so very wonderful and yet more horrible than Ansem himself. Riku saw it very clearly: The sun was slipping into its nightly bloodbath, dyeing the ocean citrus hues of orange and red. _She _was sitting next to him; _she_, whose hair so perfectly matched the fading sun, whose eyes bloomed softly like an island flower. _She_.

She looked over his way. It wasn't just one of her teasing glances, her childhood trademark, but it was a look Riku had never seen in her eyes before. It scared him and thrilled him at the same time. He _wanted _that look, longed for it, striving for it ever after.

He had been so dazed by the shimmer in her eyes that he almost didn't hear her speak. "Riku." The word left her lips, dewdrop-perfect, faceted like a gemstone, and then the look was gone. Or rather, it was half-gone; it was barely visible underneath her innocent eyes. She touched his hair, its perfect straight smoothness, smiled, and said simply, "I'm so glad you're here." Ever since, Riku had sworn his hair was perfumed with the lightness of Kairi's scent.

That was it. Now that Riku wanted it to stay, it fluttered away elusively, a dove that would never be killed. Riku snapped back fully to the present once it was gone and realized the rest of the deed must be done. He obediently ran the electric razor (for that was what it was) along his scalp again and again, feeling emotion and memory and pride slide easily to the floor, ferried by the silver hair.

Finally, he was finished. He was regretful now, feeling naked and weak without the one worldly thing he had been allowed to keep. He was afraid to see his new reflection, but his feet carried him to the mirror of their own accord.

Standing there in the mirror's pristine reflection was a different boy. There were no quicksilver locks streaming down like rainwater to frame his face; there were no jagged bangs to teasingly half-curtain his eyes from the curious world. It was an awkward,mildly sickeningthing to behold, to see someone lacking a bit of themselves. He looked smaller now that his hair was gone; his features and profile were sharper, as well. He appeared stronger, more savage, and yet less clever, less stately. More…common. _Disgusting._ He sighed heavily, suddenly exhausted. _Man, I was pretty vain, huh? Well…no longer._

Remnants of the hair still remained, however. As Riku turned slightly, the ever present, inexplicable glow of the night flowed along the bright stubble on his head. It was hardly more than a film of moonlight, but Riku ran his hand along his scalp and felt that it was there. Thefrail, fleecy texture reassured him a little. _Hair grows back, even if memories don't. I can be almost the same…right?_

"Well," Riku said aloud, "at least that's over with. I can get on with my life." And to show the darkness his determination to do so, he swung around and left the room.

-Fin-

(Yo. Topaz again! The idea for this came to me in the car, listening to Right Here by Staind, a song I have always connected with Riku. My mom was talking about how gross Staind's lead singer was, saying he was old andbald and "icky". Then it hit me: What if Riku had no hair? Thus ends this Random Story history lesson.)


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